Dag Page #2

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you'll go after them

and do the same.

- Sir, you?

- A hundred and fifty meters.

Stay calm.

I'll be right behind you.

Everyone will do their job.

Sit.

Burak.

Burak!

Yes, sir.

Bring your friend something to eat.

Where the hell is

your cartridge belt?

F*** off!

Yes, sir.

Where are you from?

My family is from Kozan

but I was born in Ankara, sir.

I live in Istanbul.

Did you swear a lot

when you drew this place?

You have no idea.

Your biggest enemy is boredom.

Have them send you books.

Nothing too liberal, but I'll

approve almost anything.

- What did you study?

- History, sir.

But I can work at anything.

A German, an Italian, and

a Turk were staying in a hotel.

In each of their rooms

was a foxy French maid

and a pile of ironing.

The German,

went into the room,

did the ironing,

then slept with the maid.

Then he said with pride,

"For us, work comes before love."

The Italian did the opposite,

first slept with her,

then did the ironing.

"First we make love, then we work,"

he said proudly.

Then it was our guy's turn.

He took the maid from behind

and made her do the ironing.

"Those who work get f***ed" he said.

A hundred meters!

Ouz.

Take aim!

Hold your breath!

Get ready, gentlemen!

Bekir. Stay calm.

I'm right behind you.

- Run in zigzags, ok?

- Yes, sir.

Kemal!

We're ready, sir!

Come on!

Run, run!

Run, don't stop!

Bekir, run!

Take shelter now!

Run! Don't stop, run!

- Get ready.

- Sir, I'll carry you.

I'll carry you, sir.

What kind of a short-termer

are you anyway?

No.

Take my gun. Not me.

Ouz...

Don't die, Ouz.

Don't die.

Go on, run, run!

Run!

Son of a b*tch!

Run, run! Don't stop!

Towards the snow.

Sniper!

One dies, a thousand resurrect!

Ouz!

Ouz!

Where is Sergeant Kemal?

Speak, man!

We have to go.

You loser, speak already,

where is the sergeant?

They're dead.

What do you mean, they're dead?

What are you saying, man?

They're dead.

The Lieutenant was shot

one more time in the hut.

And Sergeant Kemal

was shot a sniper...

Sons of b*tches!

- Sons of b*tches!

- We have to go, Bekir.

Mountain. This is Crimea. Come in.

Mountain. This is Crimea. Come in.

Crimea! We're here, Crimea!

Password.

Nine hundred and twenty-three.

Nine hundred and

twenty-three, Crimea!

Mountain, situation report.

Sir, Sergeant Kemal and

Lieutenant Yaar have been shot.

Are they alive?

No, sir.

Mountain, the situa...

than we thought... have to...

You're breaking up.

Repeat, Crimea.

You... the f*** out... are coming.

We can't read you, sir.

Please repeat.

Go up to...

immediately... and we'll...

Repeat, Crimea!

Repeat, Crimea!

- Now we're f***ed!

- Wait, stay calm.

Use your head, man! What are we

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